


this is better than real life.

by m4jor3tt3



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fight Club AU, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Smoking, Verbal Abuse, only a little bit though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 03:56:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5990872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/m4jor3tt3/pseuds/m4jor3tt3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Kylo had never felt the same since he found this bar. Before, he would come here because the beer was cheap and the lighting was low and no one spoke to him. Now, he came on Thursday evenings, when the basement was packed with sweaty bodies and the air was thick with the smell of blood and violence. He came with his hands wrapped, muscles still sore from last week, dark hair hanging in his thin face. He takes every chance he can get to get in the ring, dealing as much damage as he receives. The owner of the bar knows about these weekly rituals, places bets on fighters, allows sponsors to float through the crowd."</p><p>an au no one asked for</p>
            </blockquote>





	this is better than real life.

**Author's Note:**

> Italics are direct quotes from Chuck Palahniuk's "Fight Club."

_ If I wake up in a different place, at a different time, could I wake up as a different person? _

Kylo had never felt the same since he found this bar. Before, he would come here because the beer was cheap and the lighting was low and no one spoke to him. Now, he came on Thursday evenings, when the basement was packed with sweaty bodies and the air was thick with the smell of blood and violence. He came with his hands wrapped, muscles still sore from last week, dark hair hanging in his thin face. He takes every chance he can get to get in the ring, dealing as much damage as he receives. The owner of the bar knows about these weekly rituals, places bets on fighters, allows sponsors to float through the crowd.

_ You wake up and you’re nowhere. _

Kylo first sees him at a meeting lingering at the back of the room. The dim lights illuminate the smoke of his cigarette, wrapping him in a dull golden haze. He’s dressed like a typical office worker- white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, the first few buttons undone, black tie loose around his neck. His eyes are sharp and cut through the dark, meeting Kylo’s as he skirts around the ring, knuckles bleeding, lip split. Snoke must’ve let him in. His wallet must be overflowing. He had the look of a sponsor, his slim wrists and waist seeming unfit for the ring.

_ You wake up and that’s enough _ . 

His name was Brendol Hux. He was a soldier, now worked at his father’s law firm. He felt unsatisfied with his life and came to the bar to find someone was worth his time and his money.

_ You can swallow about a pint of blood before you’re sick _ .

Hux stops him as the basement clears out, hand closing around his wrist and mouth going to his ear. “Not bad,” he whispers. He must be on his toes. Kylo shakes his wrist free, going to unwrap the bloodied tape around his left hand. His tongue darts out over his lips, blood seeping through the spaces between his teeth. He tells Hux he isn’t looking for a sponsor. Hux takes Kylo’s bruised hand in his own, examines the scars littering his skin. Kylo doesn’t pull away right away, watches as Hux’s eyes rake over his blemished skin.

“I can pay you well.”

I’m not doing this for money.

“Who’s to say you can’t start?”

No, thanks.

Hux smiles, hums low in his throat. He reaches into his pocket, produces a box of cigarettes. Kylo watches as he taps out one cigarette, sticks it between his lips, then a second one. He slips it into Kylo’s hand, closes his fingers around it. “I’ll be here next week,” he says, voice soft. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

Kylo doesn’t say anything and watches as Hux heads up the creaking stairs, lighting his cigarette. He leaves behind a cloud of smoke.

_ Where would Jesus be if no one had written the gospels? _

Hux is back, he’d never tell a lie. He’s all cold, sharp angles. He’s smoking another cigarette. He watches Kylo with intent, eyes half lidded. Kylo notices him loosen his tie. It’s black again.

_ Maybe we would become a legend, maybe not. _

“Have you made up your mind?”

The floor at the center of the basement is splattered with blood. Some of its Kylo’s. He tastes it on his mouth, feels the swelling bruise below his eye. He pulls on the t-shirt he’d come to the bar in. Blood drips down his chin, stains the collar of the shirt. 

I’m still not looking for a sponsor.

“I can make it worth your while.”

I’m not interested.

“Tell you what.” Kylo watches as Hux lights another cigarette. His lips are thin, pursed tight as he inhales sharply. He fishes his wallet from his pocket, pulls out a fairly large bill. He folds it into Kylo’s palm as he’d done the cigarette from last week. “Give me one fight. You’ll make more money than you know what to do with.”

I already told you, I don’t need the money.

“No one needs money, but isn’t it nice to have?”

He’s persistent, Kylo has to admit. He breathes a stream of smoke. It floats around his face, but his harsh green eyes are still bright. He has red hair. Kylo hadn’t noticed this because of the low lighting he’d always seen him in.

One fight.

“One fight.”

And then what?

“Whatever you want.”

Kylo can think of a few things.

_ There are fewer and fewer gentlemen in business and more thugs _ .

Hux doesn’t tell Kylo how many people bet on him the next week. “Could’ve been better,” he mutters around a cigarette, thumbing through a wad of cash. He peels apart a handful of bills, holds it out limply to Kylo. He takes it without counting, stuffs it in his pocket. “So?” Hux asks.

So what.

“Next week?”

You said one fight.

“If all you want is one, then I’ll find someone else.”

Do you want to do it again next week?

“I will if you want me to.”

Kylo thinks for a moment. He notices how when Hux pinches the cigarette and pulls it from his lips, his tongue pokes out at the corner of his mouth.

You said I could’ve been better.

“You can always be better.”

I’ll see you next week.

Hux hums again. Kylo wonders how often he makes that sound. “Good boy.”

_ The monster drags itself across the lovely bouquets and garlands of the Oriental carpet. _

The next week, Hux still doesn’t tell him how much money he made. He splits the stack of bills he’s collected throughout the night, hands it off to Kylo without a word. He doesn’t seem pleased. Hux never seems pleased. Kylo fought six different men tonight. He can’t tell what blood splattered across his chest and arms is his and what isn’t. His nose might be broken. He won all six fights. Smoke crawls out from between Hux’s lips. His cheeks are pink, dark eyelashes fanned out over his high cheekbones. 

_ The monster crawls across the carpet, hot and picking up the lint and dust sticking to the blood on its claws. _

“That was pathetic.”

Hux had sponsored Kylo for the past six weeks. The insults are all the same. Pathetic. Pitiful. Contemptiful. Miserable. Dog. Hux always looks pristine. His shirts are pressed and stark, his pants ironed, his shoes black and shiny as the blood splashed across Kylo’s mouth. One night, after Hux pays Kylo and heads toward the basement stairs, Kylo spits at him. Blood hits the floor, joins the other stains. Hux doesn’t notice. Kylo knows he’s no better than a stain on the concrete floor.

_ You have so much and I have nothing. _

“I can’t believe this.”

Kylo is leaning against the wall, unraveling the tape around his hands. He watches it flutter to the floor. Hux has his back to him, smoke rising above his head. 

Kylo doesn’t ask what Hux can’t believe, but he can count on Hux to tell him anyway.

“Barely made half of what you usually do. It’s because you lost to that meathead with the tattooes. People lost faith in you after that. Not that they should’ve had any in you in the first place.”

Kylo wants to tell him that in that round before the tattooed man, he felt his kneecap shatter on the concrete floor. He knows his leg is swollen beneath his pants, the fabric torn to reveal purpled, bleeding skin. He would tell Hux that that’s the reason he lost in that round, but he knows Hux won’t listen. He keeps his mouth shut.

“Do you even care? I’ve staked my name on you, you know. You fight like shit, I look like shit.”

I’d love to see you do what I do.

“Excuse me?”

Kylo wishes the floor would swallow him up.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite hear you.”

Kylo wishes that he was dead.

“Oh, you’ve got nothing to say now?”

Kylo wishes that Hux was dead.

“That’s what I thought.”

Hux drops Kylo’s pay cut onto the floor. He doesn't stay long enough to watch Kylo drop to his knees to pick it up. 

_ This is better than real life. _

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Kylo doesn’t bother asking what he’s doing wrong anymore.

“People are talking to me about betting  _ against _ you now, you know that, right?”

What a shame.

“You’ve gone soft.”

I’m sorry.

“Bullshit.”

Kylo doesn’t know why he dignifies any of Hux’s insults with responses.

Hux puts his cigarette out against Kylo’s shoulder. He stares him in the eye when he does this. Kylo wants to dig his thumbs into those green eyes and listen to him scream.

“Pathetic.”

You could never do what I do.

“Is that what you think?”

I don’t think, I know.

The punch Hux lands on Kylo’s jaw cracks loudly throughout the empty basement. Kylo is on the floor, he hadn’t expected a hit like that. Hux’s foot drives into Kylo’s stomach. He’s coughing up blood. He wants to turn himself to spit blood onto Hux’s shoes. He knows how mad he’ll get if he does that. He doesn’t get a chance, because Hux is yanking him to his feet and throwing him into the wall. Kylo’s hands are shaking. “Are you even going to try?” He spits. Kylo can barely keep himself up. He never saw a doctor about his knee. It shows in the way he stands now. Hux takes advantage of this and sweeps Kylo’s legs out from beneath him, sending him crashing to his knees. Kylo swallows as pain shoots up his leg, his fingers pale and trembling. 

“Fucking worthless.”

I know.

“Say it.”

Fucking worthless.

“Again.”

Fucking worthless.

“Again.”

Fucking worthless.

Hux pulls him to his feet again. Blood is dripping from his nose from the meeting, trickling down his chin. Hux swipes it away with his thumb.

Hux kisses him. Licks the blood from his lips. Digs his fingers into his throat. Kylo digs his blunt, dirty nails into Hux’s scalp, taking fistfuls of his hair and dragging him close. He wants to tear off his head, throw it across the room, wipe his blood across his face.

_ Every evening, I died, and every evening, I was born. _

Hux is stronger than he looks. Kylo discovers this when Hux has his arms around his waist, pinning him up against the wall. Kylo’s legs are so tight around him he could snap him in half. He can’t will himself to do so, couldn’t do it even if Hux wasn’t ruthlessly pounding into him and biting his throat.

_ This is the one real thing in my life, and you’re wrecking it. _

Hux takes Kylo to his apartment and fucks him into the mattress. He looks different when his hair is slick with sweat and sticking to his forehead. He has a scar on his shoulder. Kylo doesn’t ask about it. Hux smokes a cigarette after they’ve finished. 

“You should go.”

_ Sometimes, you wake up and have to ask where you are _ .

Kylo has to be pulled away from his final opponent of the evening. The man’s face is nearly unrecognizable, bruised and bloody and puffy. His left eye is black and swollen shut, his lip is torn. Kylo is covered in his blood. The man hadn’t even landed one hit on him. The two men who have Kylo by the arms throw him into the wall, hoist his opponent up to his feet. They’re done for the night.

“Finally.”

Hux breathes the word through a cloud of smoke. Kylo wants to capture his mouth and kiss him until his mouth is bleeding.

“Except people want to see a  _ fight _ , not a  _ murder _ .”

He isn’t dead.

“He might as fucking well be.”

Kylo punches him. His head knocks against the concrete wall loudly and he drops to the floor, bracing himself on one elbow.

“How  _ fucking _ dare you-”

Kylo grabs the front of his shirt and punches him again. 

“I  _ own _ you!”

You fucking wish.

He hits him again. Drops him to the floor. Crawls on top of him, one leg on either side of him. His knee screams in pain but he has better things to pay attention to. He hits him again.

Again.

Again. 

Again, again, again.

When Hux’s mouth is red and shining and his white skin is decorated with bruises, he starts to laugh.

Again.

“Is this how he felt?”

Again.

“Or am I enjoying this too much?”

Shut the fuck up.

“You’re a disappointment.”

Again.

Hux laughs. It’s sharp and shrill and cold and mean just like everything else about him.

Again.

Hux finally pushes Kylo away from him, leaves him sitting against the wall, panting. 

“Look at me.”

Hux pushes himself between Kylo’s knees.

“Look at me.”

Hux yanks his jeans away.

“Look at me.”

Hux’s mouth is hot and wet and bleeding.

_ Disaster is a natural part of my evolution toward tragedy and dissolution. _

They’re back at Hux’s apartment. Kylo always thought Hux’s bed was too soft. Hux doesn’t let Kylo touch him. Kylo watches him finger himself open. His cock is red and shining, bobbing between the two of them. Kylo digs his fingernails into his palms. 

“Look at me.”

Hux hums as he lowers himself onto Kylo’s dick, one hand going to grip Kylo’s shoulder. When Kylo goes to grab his waist, Hux digs his nails into Kylo’s neck. “What the fuck did I say,” he breathes. He reaches awkwardly toward the bedside table. Kylo sees his box of cigarettes, gingerly picks up the package. Shakes out a cigarette, slides it between Hux’s lips. Hux’s tongue darts out and drags across Kylo’s finger. Hux hims again, lifting his hips briefly before dropping them again. 

“Lighter.”

Kylo grabs the lighter from the table, flips it open, flicks the flame alive. Watches it lick the end of the cigarette. Hux moans quietly, head falling back. Kylo wants to sink his teeth into his throat and rip it out. 

He smokes his cigarette, moves so Kylo is fucking him just the way he likes. There’s no way he’d let Kylo do it himself, because Kylo couldn’t possibly do it right. Because Kylo can’t do anything right.

Hux’s mouth is still red from earlier. Blood stains the corners of his mouth and his chin. His left cheekbone is sharp and bruised. He taps ash off onto the floor beside the bed before returning the cigarette to his mouth.

Kylo wants to kiss him. Wants to swallow the smoke in his throat.

Hux rocks forward, his head falling against Kylo’s shoulder. The cigarette is still between his lips, the hot tip radiating against his skin.

Kylo wants to tear him open and paint the walls with his insides.

_ All night long, your thoughts are on the air.  _

When Kylo wakes up, he isn't quite sure where he is. The room is dim, he's lying back in a bed that's too soft. He's missing his shirt, chest hollow, his hands are sore. He carefully lifts one hand, arm shaking slightly with overuse and pain, touches his split lip. 

“You're awake.”

Hux is in the doorway, leaning against it, a cigarette in one hand, the handle of a first aid kit in the other. 

“You're at my apartment, by the way, so don't ask. 

What happened. 

“You went down. Hard, I might add.”

Hux sits on the edge of the bed, finishes his cigarette, crushes it out in the ashtray on the bedside table. “I couldn't take you to a hospital for obvious reasons. I have sufficient medical training from my time in the military, so I brought you back to my apartment.”

How long have I been out. 

“Only a couple of hours. It's four in the morning.” He's digging through the first aid kit while he's talking. He pulls out a rag and a bottle of rubbing alcohol, soaks a corner of it. He leans over Kylo, one hand pressing into the mattress by Kylo’s hip. He drags the cloth gently over the gash in his lip. 

I kept you up. 

“Wouldn't be the first time.”

What do you mean. 

“Does it matter?”

Hux moves the cloth to Kylo’s nose. Kylo winces; Hux rolls his eyes. “Was your nose always this big or did it just become malformed after having broken it so many times?”

Hilarious. 

“Hold still.”

Hux's hand goes to Kylo’s jaw, gripping it gently to turn his face. His fingers brush softly over a dark bruise high up on his cheek. The skin at his cheek and around his eye is tender, and Hux seems like he's being careful not to make Kylo hurt more. “A hit to the face seems like such a cop out,” he breathes. “If you keep getting your ass handed to you, you'll end up ugly.”

You don't think I’m ugly now. 

“I may hate you, but I’m not blind.”

Careful, you're starting to sound sincere.

“Shut up.”

Hux's hand leaves Kylo's face, trails down the throttling bruises around Hux's neck. Kylo looks up at him with tired, sunken eyes. His hand gently slides down his chest, rests on his ribs. 

“I gave you a lot of painkillers,” he says, hand leaving his side and going to rest on his knee. “Is anything else bothering you?”

This.

“If you're feeling better I’m going to sleep.”

Wait.

“What?”

Kylo kisses him. Hux doesn't pull back right away, his hands going to rest on his bruised face. 

“This won't happen again,” he mutters against Kylo’s mouth before pulling back, unbuttoning his shirt and sliding it off his shoulders. 

_ Evacuate soul, now.  _

It happens again. 

_ This is my world, my world, and those ancient people are dead. _

Kylo fights better than he’s ever fought before. His eyes find Hux’s through the crowd. Hux smirks around his cigarette.

He’s wearing one of Kylo’s shirts, bloodstained, a cigarette burn in the shoulder. He thumbs through a stack of cash. 

He seems pleased. He never seems pleased.

_ That old saying, about how you always kill the thing you love, well, it works both ways. _

“You hate me, don’t you?”

What makes you say that.

“If you hate me, why haven’t you fired me yet?”

He doesn’t need to respond again. Hux knows the answer.

_ And it does work both ways. _

 


End file.
